


Kiyoshi, Bodyguards, and Memories

by Dessert_Maniac



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: All sorts of issues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Identity Issues, Metaphysics, Psychological Trauma, Relationship Issues, Repressed Memories, Self Confidence Issues, characters start falling apart eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dessert_Maniac/pseuds/Dessert_Maniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of becoming a goddess, Madoka died. Desperate and losing her sanity, Homura turned back and set a new timeline in motion. </p><p>Twelve years later, Kaname Madoka finds herself being stalked by an albino called Kiyoshi, so she hires a bodyguard, who turns out to be none other than Akemi Homura. Gradually, the buried past resurfaces as the world falls apart around Homura -- again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kiyoshi

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Bodyguard and the Client](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/26871) by Dessert Maniac. 



> This is the perfect example of something writing itself. Originally, they were all normal humans and Puella Magi/witches/Incubators did not exist, but then I somehow or other changed lanes and now all my characters are going freaking /insane/ as of chapter four. 
> 
> Anyway, this is a REWRITE of my "The Bodyguard and the Client" on FanFiction. I'm hoping that this one will get more feedback than the other, so please leave comments! I really want to hear from you guys about what you like and don't like. About updates -- once in a blue moon. No, just kidding, but updates will take fooorever.

### Kiyoshi

Sometimes, Homura wondered if they would ever be free of the plagues that enabled the Incubators to prey on humanity.

* * *

It was raining the first time she encountered him.

Muddy puddles covered the sidewalk and road. Dark grey clouds rumbled and lightning flashed, illuminating the sky in brief bursts of light. The streets were largely empty, save for the occasional harried passing of a person caught without an umbrella. Everywhere, doors were closed and windows shut against the cold and rainy wind. Only an hour ago it had been bright and sunny.

 _Just goes to show what awful luck I have sometimes_ , Madoka sighed. The one day she decided to take the initiative and walk home by herself, the weather conspired against her. Her day had progressed normally enough: she went to work, had lunch with her friends, and ran a few errands after work, all the while accompanied by her chauffeur, as usual. On her way home from said errands, however, she had spotted a small bookstore and decided to browse around. Despite her chauffeur's protests ( _“Kaname-san, you mustn’t! Think of what Miki-san will do to me if she finds out that I left you by yourself!”_ ), Madoka had decided to send him home. She then spent a merry hour at the bookstore, eventually realizing that she had to hurry home to dinner before anyone got worried and came looking for her.

_Time really flies by sometimes. I'll come back on Sunday with Hitomi-chan _. The moment she stepped out of the bookstore, however, the dismal sight of a rain-drenched street met her pink eyes.__

Biting her lip nervously, Madoka glanced around and wondered if she should call her chauffeur to pick her up before deciding that it would be too much of a bother to make Kyo-san drive in this wretched weather—she didn’t want to be a burden. _Does the bookstore sell umbrellas?_ she wondered. Nodding determinedly, she reentered the little store, only to sigh dejectedly when it became apparent that only books and stationary items were sold here.

 _I guess I’ll just have to walk to the nearest bus stop. Well, that's not too bad if I sing in the rain. That'd be fun_.

“Do you need help, miss?”

Madoka looked up, startled. A young man stood next to her; she hadn’t heard him approach. He smiled at her, though somehow Madoka thought there was something vaguely wrong in his cheerful smile. Then, with a thrill of uneasy surprise, she realized that the fellow was albino: he had very pale skin and hair and his eyes were red. Unfazed, he let her openly stare at him. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I am Kiyoshi; I work nearby.” _He doesn’t look Japanese, even though his name is_.

His smile never wavered as she flushed and replied, “O-Oh, no. It’s ok. I should have been paying attention anyway, haha...” Nor did he blink, his bright red eyes staring back at her intently. They stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, staring at each other, one bewildered and the other self-satisfied. _Run away_ , a mostly-forgotten whisper urged her. “It’s raining and you seem rather upset. Here, take my umbrella,” Kiyoshi offered her a simple black umbrella. Madoka took a step back. “N-no, that’s alright. I-I don’t need it,” she stammered. Now she was starting to wish that she hadn’t told Kyo-san to go home without her. “Umm, I-I’ll be going now, thank you... Kiyoshi-san.” With that, Madoka practically fled the bookstore. Something about the albino sent dread throughout her— _but I’m certain I’ve never met him before; I’d remember meeting an albino named Kiyoshi, wouldn’t I?_

It was still raining lightly when she rushed out, but that mattered not to Madoka. She walked quickly, not caring that the splashes she made splattered mud on her pink sundress. Then again, it really did not matter because the rain soaked her clothes anyway. She hastily made her way to the nearest bus stop, almost falling into puddles multiple times. Gradually, she calmed down and felt silly for overreacting to the young man in the bookstore. Unfortunately, as she calmed she also began to notice how cold and uncomfortable she felt, drenched in rain. _Sayaka-chan’s going to be mad when she finds out_ , she thought miserably. She started to shiver, though out of cold, not out of fear. 

Slowing down to catch her breath, Madoka became aware of sloshing footsteps behind her. She stopped, and the footsteps stopped. Unease gripped her again, and she started once again for the bus stop. This time, however, she paid attention to the noise her feet were making and realized that there was someone else walking behind her. _Oh, what do I do??? What if it’s some creepy stalker? Or maybe it’s just someone else hurrying home… yeah, that must be it. Just someone else who got caught in the rain without an umbrella_. She wasn't convinced.

At the bus stop, Madoka forced herself to look back and froze in surprise. Standing several yards behind her was the same albino man she had encountered in the bookstore: _Kiyoshi…? What is he doing?_

Kiyoshi stood in the rain, his smile—no, his **smirk** —never wavering, his red eyes never leaving her. The rain had soaked his clothes too, but he didn’t seem to mind. _Run_ , the mental whisper now positively begged her. His pale hair was plastered to his forehead and the rain on his face made it look almost shiny. Kiyoshi appeared to be perfectly at ease, as if standing in the middle of the rain and staring at a frightened girl intently was perfectly normal to do. Then, he spoke. “You know, you would be the perfect addition to my company.” He did not raise his voice, but she heard him clearly over the soft pattering of rain. She resisted the urge to whimper, unable to think clearly.

For another eternity, Madoka and Kiyoshi stared at each other.

“Umm, I-I'm not sure I u-Understand—”

Suddenly, a car honked. Madoka jumped, and the spell was broken. Kyo got out of the car and exclaimed, “Kaname-san! You’re all soaked through! Oh, Tomoe-san and Miki-san were worried when you weren’t home in time for dinner, and they’ll have a fit when they see the state you’re in!” Madoka, in a daze, let Kyo lead her to the car and buckle her in. “Oh dear, you must’ve caught a cold by now,” Kyo fretted as he drove away. She glanced out the window and was somehow not surprised to notice that Kiyoshi had disappeared.

“Don’t worry, Kyo-san. I’m fine, really,” she found herself saying. By the next day, she had forgotten all about the strange man.

* * *

It was sunny the second time she encountered him.

The parking lot was relatively busy as people came and went with their friends and family, and some came and went by themselves. Cars of every color reflected the bright sunlight and blinded pedestrians and drivers alike. Noises of all kinds permeated the air, from kids’ laughter and yells to couples arguing over him spending too much on clothes: there was rarely a moment of silence at this busy mall.

“Oh, Hitomi-chan, how is Kyosuke-san doing?” Madoka was out shopping with Hitomi one Sunday afternoon, having decided to spend time with her, since Sayaka and Mami were both on an assignment and she felt a bit lonely. Grading papers was rather boring, after all. The two were currently eating at a Panda Express just outside the mall and a passing person carrying a bag with a treble clef on it had reminded Madoka of Hitomi’s fiancé.

Hitomi adjusted her sunglasses daintily as she replied. The hot sun was, thankfully, blocked by large umbrellas over them. “He’s much happier lately and that makes me happy, but his arm has been aching for the past few days. I recommended that he go see his doctor, and so he agreed to let me take him tomorrow morning.” Madoka could only nod, remembering the painful months Sayaka had spent trying to make Kyosuke happy before realizing that his love for her was not the same as her love for him. Somehow or other, Sayaka managed to move on and let Hitomi declare her love for the ex-violinist. She didn’t really know many of the details, since she herself had been in the hospital at the time. “You know, Madoka-san, you are very fortunate to have recovered so completely from your own accident,” she added, looking curiously at Madoka, who shrugged uncomfortably. _Weakling_ , her mind taunted her.

“Hitomi-chan, have you and Kyosuke-san settled on a date for the wedding yet?” A genuine grin graced Madoka’s expression, even as her mind was somewhere else. Hitomi smiled serenely, thinking of her sweetheart.

“Not yet, but we are thinking of having the wedding in the summer, on account of his health. Oh! Madoka-san, I would be very much obliged if you would agree to be my bridesmaid. Kyosuke-san wants to have a Western-style wedding and I quite agree.”

Surprised, Madoka paused with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. Hitomi stiffled her giggles behind a napkin at her friend's flabbergasted expression. “W-well, it would definitely be an honor, Hitomi-chan... does Kyosuke-san approve?”

“Certainly. He has a very high opinion of you, Madoka-san; everyone respects you,” Hitomi reassured Madoka, who immediately reddened and the familiar self-loathing stirred in the back of her mind.

They chatted amiably for a few more minutes before Hitomi excused herself to the restroom. _Honestly, I have to stop feeling guilty about my accident. If I keep feeling guilty about it, then Sayaka-chan will feel bad. She can't turn into a witch, not anymore, but I can’t let her wish go to waste after all we've been through_. Madoka kept eating, glancing around the enclosed restaurant area and observing the people around her. _So many happy people…_ , she thought, her cheery smile returning to its rightful place. Her smile faltered when she overheard a man and woman boasting about their "conquests." Before she could dwell on that, however, she spotted someone sitting alone at a nearby table. Impeccably dressed in a dark grey suit, what drew her gaze was his pale skin, pale hair, and pale lips that never ceased to smirk. Though he was wearing sunglasses and she had only seen him once before on a dark and rainy day, Madoka instantly recognized him. _He can't be..._

He took off his sunglasses.

Once again, Kiyoshi’s eyes looked deep into her own, and Madoka began to tremble. She noticed his expression never changed: it was always that same self-satisfied smirk that she had mistaken for a smile the first time she had seen him. _His eyes… I’ve never seen such red eyes on a human_. Then, a wild thought came to mind and Madoka considered fleeing. _But Hitomi-chan will wonder where I went … and there’s—he can’t possibly be—he’s human and his name is Kiyoshi. The reason his eyes are red and he’s so pale is because he is an albino, right. Heh, the heat must be confusing me, making me see Kyubey in this man. Silly me_. Nonetheless, the unease refused to leave her alone.

Kiyoshi stared at her, smirking, confident that Eve would be tempted and **fall**. He had a plate full of fancy restaurant fries— _where did he get that? This is Panda Express!_ —in front of him, and he ate them cheerfully, never taking his eyes off of Madoka. She had to force her gaze away from him, half-convinced that Kiyoshi was Kyubey and that he would approach her again with false promises. _No, the heat is really getting to me_. She ordered an iced tea from a passing waiter.

When Hitomi returned, Madoka hastily managed to convince her friend that it was time to return to their respective homes ( _“Certainly, Madoka-san. Are you feeling unwell?” “N-no, not at all!”_ ). To her growing horror, every time she glanced back Kiyoshi was there, following them at a distance. He left, however, once Hitomi’s chauffeur got out of the car and helped Hitomi and Madoka in.

 _He can’t possibly be Kyubey_. This time, she could not erase neither the encounter nor the dark images that came to mind afterwards.

* * *

Madoka caught Kiyoshi following her four more times after that. Each time she tried to convince herself that no, Kiyoshi could not possibly be Kyubey no matter how similar the two were, she failed to do so.

“What! If some creepy dude is following **my** future bride around, then I’ll punch his lights out!” Sayaka glowered, already strangling Kiyoshi in her mind. Madoka laughed nervously and shook her head, nibbling on a biscuit. “I was thinking of going to the police, but he never does anything except stare at me, and he disappears quickly,” she explained. Mami-san smiled at Sayaka’s grumpy expression and offered her another slice of cake to occupy her. They were at Mami’s apartment, having tea and cake after a day’s worth of work. Mami sat with her legs folded back, calmly sipping her tea as Sayaka flailed her arms around. _Just as when we were in middle school_ , the once-senpai reflected. _Those were good times—mostly_. She tried not to think of how Sayaka's childish antics reminded her of a certain fiery redhead she had not visited in years.

“Perhaps what Madoka-san should do is hire a personal bodyguard,” Mami suggested, avoiding a stray blow from Sayaka. Immediately, Sayaka beamed and, cake forgotten, exclaimed, “Yes! Madoka, I will be your bodyguard from now on and make sure that weirdo doesn’t bother you again!” Madoka hesitated, for various reasons. _Should I tell them about my… suspicion?_

Before she could answer, Mami spoke once more. “Well, that is thoughtful of you, Sayaka-san, but you must remember that our particular firm does not allow us to act as bodyguards for our own friends: it is considered unprofessional. Neither of us can be Madoka-san’s personal security agent. Still, I think you should come by our headquarters and file a request for a bodyguard, or even for a pair of bodyguards,” she said, addressing Madoka at the end. Sayaka visibly deflated at her words, but Madoka knew she couldn’t possibly impose herself on her friends like that. If there was one thing that Madoka hated, it was being a useless burden to her friends.

_They’ve gone through so much and they are both so strong, Mami-san and Sayaka-chan, whereas I just kind of stumble through life, depending on people to help me. I don’t know how to defend myself. I guess I could take classes for martial arts or some sort of self-defense, but what use is that against someone like Kyubey? That is, if Kiyoshi is Kyubey... which is plausible, given how much magical girl metascience has progressed. What should I do???_

“Mado-chan?” Startled out of her thoughts, Madoka waved away Sayaka's concern. “Sorry, I got lost in thought for a moment, haha. You know, Mami-san, I think I will go to Security Firm and hire a personal bodyguard.” She did not mention the doubts that plagued her. Sayaka and Mami both nodded and urged Madoka to go early the next morning, since she didn’t have class on Saturdays.

Ruffling Madoka’s hair, Sayaka reassured her, “Don’t worry, Madoka-chan. Security Firm has the best bodyguards you can get! And with your money, you won’t have to worry about paying, hahaha. Don't forget, though, that I'm at your disposal whenever you need me.” Madoka smiled thankfully and ignored Sayaka's hand on her knee. _I really need to get Sayaka-chan to date someone... and I need a way to find out if Kyubey has managed to gain a human body and name_.

“Ne, Sayaka-chan, I heard you might have a new assignment?” she changed the subject, not willing to let herself dwell on the one experience that had soured her to the magic of the Incubators.

“Oh, yeah. Tomorrow, I'm taking over another bodyguard's task of taking care of an old priest. Apparently, the situation resembles a tragedy that the bodyguard lived through, and it's too much for him/her, so I have to step in. There goes my vacation,” the bluenette grumbled at the loss.

“But you will be paid extra, Sayaka-san,” Mami laughingly consoled her. The conversation meandered on, Madoka making sure that it did not wander back to the original topic.

> Perhaps they would never be free of sin, but without realizing it, Madoka took the first step—one of many—in breaking the Incubators' control on humanity for good.


	2. Bodyguards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, dearest Homura! [Please don't kill me.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is significantly longer than the first; chapters get progressively longer as we go along, but probably will remain in the 2,000 - 4,000 words range. By the way, I take significant liberties with the whole bodyguard business and the metaphysics of the Puella Magi that will start coming up.
> 
> I need feedback, so please comment/review!

### Bodyguards

“Akemi-san,” the Division A manager announced.

His stern voice echoed in the spacious room full of top-tier bodyguards awaiting their next assignments. The place was an ocean of black: regardless of gender, everyone wore the same impeccable black suit and tie. Indeed, it was almost as if they were at a funeral; the only color came from the occasional different-colored shirt and/or tie, though only the senior bodyguards were allowed such an expression of identity.

From the back of the room, a tall woman stood up immediately and confidently. “Taisho-sama,” she replied. The manager gestured her forward and handed her a manila folder: her new task. Opening the folder, Homura read the short description of her charge. _Kaname Madoka. Aged twenty-five. Assistant archery coach and art teacher at Mitakihara Middle School. Lives alone in a two-story house with four servants (chauffeur, two maids, and a cook). Personal details on following page. Needs protection from a stalker called Kiyoshi: albino, medium height. Further information to be obtained. Duration of mission: indefinite. Appointment time: 3PM._

The photo in the folder was of a smiling—and strangely familiar—young woman with pink hair and eyes, but there was no photo of Kiyoshi: they had yet to gather more information on the elusive albino. Homura bowed curtly and promptly left to prepare. Already, her mind was thinking of ways to capture this Kiyoshi in the most efficient manner. _Since evidently this client is wealthy enough to hire me_ , Homura mused, _perhaps Kiyoshi is after her money. That is the logical conclusion. Or perhaps the fellow is a sexual predator. She is rather pretty_. Surprised, Homura paused just outside her personal office. _Pretty? What an odd thought_. Homura shook her head and entered her office. Because of her status as one of the best in Division A, the highest of the three divisions, she had her own office, though it was relatively small.

A mess of Pocky wrappers littering the floor met her eyes. The culprit sat in Homura’s expensive swivel chair, feet propped up on her equally expensive desk and munching on yet another pack of Pocky and intently playing on an old Nintendo. Scowling, Homura waited for her red-headed companion to realize she was there. _Honestly, it is a wonder Kyoko has retained her position for so long despite her_ unconventional _behavior as a bodyguard_. Kyoko was in the lowest of the three divisions, Division C, even though she had been working for Security Firm for about eleven years. Well, both Homura and Kyoko had been working with Security Firm since they were fourteen, as part of the company’s mission to keep young boys and girls out of gangs and other sorts of trouble; they were among the most senior of the company’s employees in terms of years of employment.

“Are you gonna just stand there and look creepy or are you gonna bother saying hi to me?” Kyoko’s voice was muffled by the Pocky in her mouth and she did not look up from her game. Restraining the impulse to roll her eyes, Homura strode forward and plucked the Nintendo from the redhead’s protesting hands. “Oi! I was just about to beat my own high score!” Kyoko made no move to get her game back, but instead immediately began picking up the mess she had made on Homura’s desk and floor, knowing that only once the area was mess-free would the silent woman return her Nintendo. “Geez, give a gal a break. You took so long I thought I’d run out of snacks,” Kyoko grumbled.

“That is no excuse for littering, Sakura-san, especially in someone else’s domain. In any case, I truly doubt you of all people would run out of sustenance.” Despite the inherent teasing in her statement, Homura’s voice was as grave as always. Even her expression held no humor, only stern blankness. _I wonder if she’ll ever lose that cold mask_ , Kyoko suddenly wondered as Homura returned the game to her. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, “Well, uh, I just dropped in to let you know that I’ll be on vacation for the next month—my manager said something about getting a break from stress and stuff.”

Homura noted the way Kyoko’s hands suddenly started trembling. Sympathy for the girl abruptly filled her normally closed-off heart. “Yes. A vacation will benefit your health; however, do not think of this as an excuse to raid my home for food, Kyoko-san,” she said, attempting, in her own way, to cheer up the normally energetic red-head. Her latest mission had been unexpectedly cut short by her manager, who had realized that the situation between the priest and his family painfully resembled the greatest tragedy in Kyoko’s young life and so had arranged for another bodyguard to take over. Since then, the young woman remained agitated and tense, leaving Homura lost as to how to comfort her only companion. _A vacation is just what Kyoko needs_.

Kyoko chuckled at Homura’s pitiful attempt for humor and gestured at the manila folder in the tall woman’s hands. “A new assignment? You recently finished a mission though.” _Let’s not continue talking about my issues_ , she thought to herself. Homura did not respond as she gathered various papers and packed them neatly in her briefcase. Shrugging, Kyoko settled down in Homura’s swivel chair again, content with munching on her Pocky and salvaging her lost Pokémon game.

Several minutes passed thusly, each preoccupied with her thoughts. The only sound in the office was the munching of Pocky and quiet rustle of papers being shifted around.

“Kyoko-san,” Homura murmured, breaking the silence.

“Humph, what? You've a bad habit of interrupting my games, woman!” Kyoko groused. _Good, she is not brooding_. Homura stood by the door, waiting for Kyoko to take a hint and let her lock up her office. “Oh, yeah. You’ve a mission; I forgot, haha. Have fun, Homu-chan~” With that, Kyoko grinned around a stick of Pocky and flounced out of the room before Homura could reprimand her.

 _Now, I must meet with… Kaname Madoka_. Homura took a deep breath to collect herself—oddly enough, her heart had thumped erratically at the oddly familiar name—and promptly headed to the Division A manager’s office on the third floor.

* * *

“What a beautiful day!” Madoka clapped her hands as she looked out from her bedroom window. The garden radiated cheer and happiness with bursts of color from various flowers and butterflies flitting about. She could see one of the maids watering a newly planted red rose. The bright early sun gave everything a nice yellow glow and a cool breeze came in through the window; Madoka felt that nothing could go wrong today.

Humming a nameless tune, Madoka went about her normal Saturday routine; after a few minutes she was ready to take the day head-on. A maid had left her a breakfast tray on her desk along with the day’s mail. Madoka happily munched on her buttered toast as she read a letter from her mother, who was away on a business trip in Tokyo. _Hmm, Mother does love her position as CEO a lot, but maybe she should take a break_ , she thought to herself. _I’ll write back to her later today. Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to send Tatsuya my letter_. A quick glance at the rest of her mail revealed nothing but bills and a few credit offers, nothing unusual. “Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed out loud. “I completely forgot that I’m supposed to go to Security Firm today, oh dear me. Let’s see, it’s only 8:30, they open at nine, ok, good. I’ll finish breakfast while I ask one of the maids to tell Kyo-san to get the car ready,” Madoka continued, her pink eyes earnest and faintly nervous as she rang for Mae.

“Kaname-sama?” the young maid asked, bowing respectfully by the desk.

“Please ask Kyo-san to prepare the car: we will be going to Security Firm as soon as I am finished with my breakfast, and please make sure this letter to my brother gets sent,” Madoka ordered. The maid took the letter and left quickly.

A few minutes later, Madoka’s dark green car pulled out of the driveway and headed out to Security Firm. Although nervous, Madoka knew that if she did not hire a bodyguard, Sayaka would probably do it for her. _If the service is as fast as Mami-san and Sayaka-chan say, which it no doubt is, then I should meet my new bodyguard sometime this afternoon_. She slowly realized that her life would be very different with a bodyguard around her at all times. _How will it be at school? Will my bodyguard have to stand next to the door while I teach? That might scare the students…_. The more she thought about it, the less certain she was about hiring a bodyguard. However, an image of Kiyoshi’s frozen smirk came to mind, and all qualms that Madoka had were immediately pushed aside. _That settles it, I guess. I really need to have some form of protection while I conduct my own investigations on whether or not Kiyoshi is Kyubey_. She decided not to dwell on the fact that she was completely lost in the world of Puella Magi and Incubators, nor on just **how** she would go about her investigation.

However, throughout the trip to Security Firm, all Madoka could think about was Kiyoshi: his red eyes, his beguiling smirk-smile, and those words he said to her that rainy day. “ _You know, you would be the perfect addition to my company_.” Despite the unease the creepy albino inspired in her, Madoka could not help but wonder what Kiyoshi’s company might be, assuming that it was not the Puella Magi business. _How could I possibly be useful to him? All I do is teach… I can barely manage to hold myself together around him! Mami-san and Sayaka-chan would be much more useful to him, wouldn’t they?_ Madoka found herself wanting to meet Kiyoshi again, just to ask him how she—a plain woman of twenty-five with no talent to her name—could make herself strong and useful like her dear friends. After all, he had clearly shown interest in her, something that she was not used to outside of her small circle of friends. _Pfft, you know you’re stronger than that, Madoka. You don’t need a bodyguard to defend you_ , she scolded herself.

Her contemplations absorbed her attention, and it was with some surprise that she heard Kyo notifying her of their arrival. Before her warring thoughts consumed her, Madoka hastily got out of the car and asked the brown-haired chauffeur to wait.

“Good afternoon, Madame. How may we be of service?” A smiling secretary greeted a stubbornly un-intimidated Madoka at the front desk. Security Firm was a five-story tall building of dark grey steel, both its exterior and its interior an imposing sight. The inner walls and chairs were the same dark metallic grey color as the outside; adorned with a few abstract paintings around the lobby, the building had a rather conservative yet modernist look. _I never did understand the point of abstract art_ , Madoka thought absently. A single hallway led to the rest of the building.

“Ah, I would like to file a request for a personal bodyguard…” Unsure how to continue and her confidence fleeing as quickly as it had appeared, Madoka wrung her hands and let her voice trail off into silence. The secretary, a young man who reminded her of one of Tatsuya’s friends, smiled sympathetically and pulled out a simple white form from one of the many cubby holes surrounding him. Handing it to her along with a pen, the young man reassured her, “Don’t worry, Madame. Just take a seat and fill out this form; Security Firm will take care of the rest, guaranteed!” Madoka nodded and sat in the nearest chair. She took a deep breath and quickly began filling in the required information. _Name: Kaname Madoka. Age: 25. Occupation: Assistant archery coach and art teacher at Mitakihara Middle School_. She diligently worked through the form; the majority of the them were the expected security-related questions like _“Level of income,” “Do you lock your windows at night,” “Notable idiosyncrasies,” “Current and past restraining orders,” “Do you have any psychological problems,”_ and so on. That last question gave her a pause and she uncertainly wrote _Self-diagnosed split personality disorder_ and moved on to the next question before she could change her mind (better safe than sorry, yes?). Occasionally, there were also some odd questions that she wondered at: _“What is your favorite color,” “Do you consider yourself an avid reader,” “Do you prefer cats or dogs,”_ etc.

Roughly an hour later, Madoka finished the form, signed it, and resolutely returned it to the secretary. He accepted it and told her to return at precisely 3PM later that day to meet her potential bodyguard. “Thank you,” she smiled brightly at him and practically skipped out the door, though she made sure to suppress her relief a little. Once outside, her chauffeur helped her into the car and drove off to visit Hitomi, who had called her late the previous night and all but demanded that Madoka come over to her place for lunch.

 _I’m looking forward to this afternoon_ , the pinkette grinned at her reflection in the window, her earlier deliberations completely forgotten… for a while. 

* * *

Homura took yet another deep breath and hesitated at the manager’s door. Her eyes narrowed slightly when she realized that her hand, lightly grasping the metal handle, was trembling slightly. _Since when am I anxious when meeting a new client? I am not the same shy girl who kept her hair in braids, wore glasses, and was pathetic overall_. Clenching her fists in a rare burst of passion, Homura struggled to lock her emotions away once again. The smiling image of Kaname Madoka came to mind. _I refuse to turn to mush over a mere client_ , Homura scolded herself sternly.

She knocked twice and opened the door.

Assessing the situation, Homura’s purple eyes took in the friendly atmosphere of the room. Her manager and the pink-haired client both got up, smiling, though nervousness began to leak into the client’s open face. _She wears her heart on her sleeve_. Homura nodded her head in acknowledgement, refraining from openly staring at her potential charge and positioned herself to the right of the manager. _Everything is in order, no threats present, good_. Never mind that her client felt very familiar and sent equally familiar thrills of **something** through her despite the fact that she was fairly certain she had never met Kaname Madoka.

“Madoka-san, I present to you Akemi Homura, the person we have selected as your personal bodyguard for as long as you wish. Akemi-san, this is Kaname Madoka, the daughter of an old family friend,” the manager introduced the two women to each other. This time, Homura bowed to Madoka and murmured, “A pleasure to meet you, Kaname-san.”

To her embarrassment, Madoka realized that her cheeks were warming up. _I’m blushing!_ “L-likewise, Akemi-san,” she stammered, her lips twitching in a nervous smile.

“Akemi-san, I was just explaining to Madoka-san that she has the option of having more than one bodyguard if she so desires,” Mr. Taisho explained.

Homura took pride in being perfectly capable of ensuring the client’s safety working alone, and so she quickly replied, “Please, Kaname-san, rest assured that your safety is in the most capable of hands. I am one the elite security agents working for Security Firm and I pledge that you will find nothing but quality and professionalism from me. There is no need for a second bodyguard.” She noted the tension on the pinkette’s shoulders and wondered why.

“Ah, well, whatever you think is best, Akemi-san.” Madoka bowed, but Homura and Mr. Taisho both noticed the slight tremor in her voice. The latter brushed it off as part of the woman’s shy nature, but Homura felt strangely wounded at the idea of her client being afraid of her.

“Excellent. Now, I will leave you two to get acquainted; I shall return in ten minutes.” With that, the Division A manager shook Madoka’s hand, nodded to Homura, and left his office. The two women remained motionless as the door closed on the manager.

Madoka sat down again, tucking her shaking hands under her legs and feeling shy around her new bodyguard. _Oh dear …_ , she thought, dismayed at her own anxiety. Her bodyguard stood motionlessly next to the now-empty chair and apparently stared straight ahead. _She seems very familiar for some reason. I have a feeling I know her from before. Before what?_ Madoka took the opportunity to examine her bodyguard, searching for familiar traits she did not remember knowing. _She’s rather tall, with such pretty black hair – I wonder how she keeps it so smooth and straight? – black, like her uniform. At least her shirt is a nice purple. It matches her eyes, I think. Oh, right. I should talk to her, since I’ve been staring at her for a while now and she might think I’m some creep, haha_.

Madoka gathered up her courage and beamed at Homura, shoving morose thoughts to the back of her mind. “Hello, I’m Madoka! – but you know that already. I know you probably have better things to do than take care of a ditz like me, but I promise it won’t really be for long.” By the end of her sentence, Madoka found herself floundering in search for words to fill in the silence. Nervousness began to ensnare her again.

Homura, frustrated with the odd situation, turned to face her charge. _Get it together, Akemi. What have you to fear? The girl looks like she will bury herself if you do not respond_. When she spoke, Homura kept her focus on a vague spot just above Madoka’s pink head. “Yes, Kaname-san, I am aware that is your name. I am at your service for as long as is necessary; do not fret over such trivial matters.” _Do not be afraid of me, Kaname-san_. Homura stiffened at the random thought and wondered where on earth it came from. She let her eyes rove around the room, unconsciously assessing the room for dangers. For her, it was a way of calming herself and reestablishing her sense of control. When she glanced back at Madoka, the pinkette was wringing her hands nervously in her lap, obviously upset. At that moment, Homura knew that this assignment would be unlike any other she had previously completed. _I need to reassure her, or else my task of protecting her will be very difficult later on. I do not need to be her friend, merely her protector, but her trust is imperative_. Before she could speak, however, the tense pinkette blurted, “T-that’s a very nice shirt you’re wearing!” Utterly surprised by the too-forceful outburst, but not showing it, Homura nodded.

“Thank you… Kaname-san,” she replied. Immediately, Madoka perked up and a joyous smile graced her open face. _You have a nice smile, Kaname-san_. Homura decided to freak out about her sudden inability to control her emotions later, when she was away from the bashful-and-too-familiar pinkette. “If I may, Kaname-san, would you describe in detail your encounters with this … Kiyoshi?” _Straight to business; there is no point in wasting time_. Madoka nodded, her edginess returning, but for an entirely different reason. Homura pulled out a small notepad and pen from a pocket on the inside of her coat. When the manager returned a few minutes later, he found Madoka recounting her latest happenstance with the albino.

Startled, Madoka glanced at him as he entered. “We will be finished shortly, sir,” Homura informed him calmly. The manager waved his hand, brushing away Homura’s concern. “Please, continue.” Madoka nodded tersely, lost in her memories, images from different years blurring together.

“Um, yes, I don’t think anyone else noticed him. The library was mostly empty anyway, and I was at the very back, behind several bookshelves. I hadn’t noticed him when I entered, but when I turned a corner, he was sitting on the floor, a book in his hands. I-I think it was open, but I don’t know what it was about… I was too surprised to look at what he was reading, and he was staring at me…. Then again, I g-guess I should be used to seeing him around whenever I’m a-alone,” Madoka laughed uncertainly, wringing her hands once more. Homura meticulously recorded every detail in her notepad. “Thank you, Kaname-san.”

The manager clapped his hands once, pleased that Homura was already familiarizing herself with the situation and establishing a professional relationship with her charge. “Well, Madoka-san? Are you pleased with the arrangement?”

This time, Madoka did not hesitate. “I am very pleased, Taisho-san. I thank you for your help,” she replied. Her bright eyes shone with a fresh—if temporary—confidence.

“Excellent, then. Akemi-san, sign here, and Kaname-san will sign right underneath. It is merely the formal agreement we discussed earlier, Kaname-san.” Both Homura and Madoka quickly signed the agreement. “Now that that is taken care of, you are officially under the protection of Akemi-san.” The manager bowed to them one last time when they left, and the two women returned the gesture.

Madoka led the way out of Security Firm and to her car, Homura a few steps behind her. When Kyo opened the door for Madoka, Homura conducted a quick inspection before approving and climbed in after her charge.

 _Right… this is going to take a little getting used to_ , Madoka thought to herself. There was something nagging at her, but she could not fathom what.

 _I wonder what her favorite color is_ , Homura randomly wondered before remembering that the answer to that was in the manila folder. _Ah, yes. One of the many odd questions that were answered_. Then, _I wonder if she ever gets lonely, living in a two-story house with only a few servants for company. At any rate, I hope she does not have the habit of getting up at early hours to snack, unlike someone else I know_. She refused to acknowledge the vague notion that she had known the pinkette before.

> “In that car, dear Kirika, is the greatest threat to humanity. Our duty is to kill her.”


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving forward~ :D 
> 
> /Please/ leave a comment! Reviews motivate me to write and help me improve, haha.

### Memories

 _This_ , Homura decided, _is ridiculous_.

For the past week, Homura had been assimilating herself into Madoka’s surprisingly busy schedule. Although there were definitely awkward moments, especially when Homura found herself staring at Madoka and the pinkette would notice, they gradually established a routine of sorts. Thankfully, Madoka had a very routine schedule she usually followed, making it easy for Homura to keep track of everything, though such predictability was unwise when one is being stalked.

Weekday mornings for Homura consisted of getting up half an hour before her client, going efficiently through her morning routine and breakfast, then tracking Madoka from the moment she awoke to the end of the day. After the pinkette’s breakfast ( _“Won’t you join me, Homura-chan?” “Kaname-san, protocol must be followed”_ ), Homura would make a thorough inspection of the car and chauffeur before letting her client enter. Once at school, Homura would dutifully follow Madoka as a shadow, alert for any discrepancies – she studiously ignored the nostalgia permeating her once middle school. The pinkette would cheerfully head to her classroom, eager to teach the art of art to her young students; Homura was absolutely enamored with her client’s voice, though she refused to admit it to herself. As the week progressed, Madoka’s students grew accustomed to the bodyguard’s stoic presence, even though they still stared at Homura when the two changed rooms [i.e. this is the Japanese custom] and glanced at her whenever their attention drifted. School would adjourn for lunch, wherein Madoka would either return to her home classroom to give remedial tests or she would go up to the rooftop – a habit Homura found strangely familiar. By three in the afternoon, school would let out and Kyo-san would come pick them up.

The afternoons were usually spent grading or working on her personal projects – initially startled, Homura made sure her position in the room enabled her to also see what Madoka was working on. Monday, the pinkette had her friend Hitomi over for dinner; she later hesitantly explained that she usually had her friends over for dinner whenever they were free, and that for the next month or so only Hitomi was available, for her other close friends were away on bodyguard business. Homura filed the information away and was better prepared the next day when the green-haired aristocrat came with her fiancée in tow.

At night, Homura would lay a blanket and pillow in order to protect Madoka even whilst the two slept – Homura took her duty to protect Madoka very seriously. The pinkette insisted that Homura sleep in the guest quarters, but the bodyguard adamantly refused. For the moment, Homura had decided against leaving her client’s side at night to investigate, for she was still familiarizing herself. Therefore, it was a simple routine that left Homura with too much room to think distracting thoughts.

Today, however, was the first Saturday of the new arrangement, and Madoka had cheerfully decided to go grocery shopping after insisting that her cook take the day off to spend time with his family. That meant that Homura was stuck pushing the cart around the noisy marketplace while keeping a close eye on her client and the surroundings. Why Madoka had not sent one of the maids instead was beyond Homura’s understanding – _Just like Kaname-san to help others_ (except, how did she know what Madoka was like? Homura had only known her for all of five days). In all her years as a bodyguard, she had never found herself in a situation quite like this one: she felt silly, trailing behind Madoka and giving her opinion on whether or not Brie was better than Camembert. _Kyoko would be much better suited for this_ , she grumbled to herself. Speaking of the Kyoko, Homura idly wondered what the red-head was up to. Perhaps she could explain why her new client felt so damn familiar.

“Homura-chan, what do you think? Should I get strawberry or orange marmalade?” Madoka asked her bodyguard, a smile gracing her expression and inevitably taking Homura’s breath away. _This is **all** so ridiculous_. Impassive, she wordlessly grabbed a jar of strawberry jam and placed it in the cart. Madoka laughed. Oddly enough, Homura was sure that she caught a glimpse of a blush before the pinkette hastily turned away. Then again, perhaps it was her wistful imagination. _Since when am I wistful? For that matter, since when am I emotional at all?_

Even after a week, Homura could understand neither her client nor her own mental state. For one, Madoka insisted that Homura address her in an informal manner, claiming that they were friends and completely ignoring the fact that Homura was **hired** to **protect** her. _Really, she does not seem as nervous as she was at first – perhaps having a bodyguard alleviated her concerns?_ Incidentally, all thoughts of Kiyoshi and Kyubey had immediately disappeared the moment Madoka met Homura, but not necessarily because of the sense of security having a bodyguard endowed. On the other hand, said bodyguard had definitely not forgotten Kiyoshi: in stalker cases, Security Firm usually had some type of reconnaissance done by the time the first week rolled to an end. This time, however, the lack of information on Kiyoshi worried Homura, for it evidently meant that the albino stalker knew how to remain undetected by even the most dedicated reconnaissance masters Security Firm employed. _I will undertake the task myself if no progress is made by the end of next week_ , Homura decided. Besides the absence of progress on the Kiyoshi front and Madoka’s odd behavior, Homura was worried because of her sudden inability to control her own emotions. The blush that warmed her cheeks, the rapid beating of her heart, and the **emotion** that blossomed in her heart whenever she was around Madoka bothered Homura. Her naturally introspective mind wanted to thoroughly analyze the wherefore of it, but her self-preservation urged her to simply ignore everything and get the job finished as soon as possible. _Something is **too** familiar about Kaname-san_.

Humming merrily and blissfully unaware of Homura’s baffled turmoil, Madoka ticked off several items from her grocery list and made her way to the wine/liquor section of the supermarket.

This particular section was surprisingly void of people, but Madoka was glad to be away from the noisy crowd. She made her way down one of the aisles, avoiding the refrigerators with their selection of beers, towards a shelf lined with the finer wines that Mami so loved to have with her dinner. Madoka did not notice that Homura had not followed; she was busy wondering if Sayaka would like a bottle of Chardonnay upon the completion of her current mission, but wryly figured that the blue-haired woman would probably scoff at the “wimpy” wine. _Well, at least Mami will appreciate it_.

Madoka turned, having decided on a red wine instead, and froze. _No_. There, at the end of the aisle, was Kiyoshi. His ever-present smirk sent shivers of raw fear up Madoka’s spine, but unlike her last encounter with the albino, he actually spoke this time.

“Kaname Madoka. At last, I find you alone. I hope you have not forgotten my offer – you would be a wonderful addition to my company.” He paused, clearly expecting a response from the frozen woman. Madoka hesitated, putting aside her fear for a moment in favor of sating her curiosity. _This is Kyubey all over again_ … She forced herself to stare back into Kiyoshi’s shiny red eyes.

“But … how? How am I useful to you?” All of Madoka’s previous reflections suddenly came to the front, desperate to know just what potential Kiyoshi saw in her. She had always thought of herself as the dullest out of all her friends: she was not cool, refined, and elegant like Mami, nor boisterous and courageous like Sayaka, nor even madly in love like Hitomi. Nope, she was just plain Madoka, and sometimes she hated herself for being so … weak. _I couldn’t even save a mere **cat**_. All the self-hatred she had managed to shove to the back of her mind slithered out of its cage, extending its leeching tendrils. Her thoughts disoriented, Madoka failed to gather her wits quickly enough to interrogate – _As if you could ever be strong enough to interrogate someone!_ – Kiyoshi.

Kiyoshi continued smirking, reveling in Madoka’s distress - the fish fell for his bait. “You have a vast potential … Madoka.” Sensing the approach of an outsider, Kiyoshi blinked and disappeared around the corner. Had Madoka been in her right mind, she would have noticed the distinct sadism present in Kiyoshi that apathetic Kyubey had lacked.

Homura, having been detained by an elderly man asking for assistance, found her charge still standing frozen in the middle of an aisle, clutching a bottle of Sorella. _Oh no, I knew she should have sent a maid instead_ , she berated herself, heart constricting. Her purple eyes darted around, scanning the area for any threats. Finding none, she proceeded to carefully approach the frozen pinkette and look for any injuries – both physical and mental. _Honestly, this girl is going to be the end of my career_. “Kaname-san?” she murmured, a hand on the bottle in case she dropped it. Incidentally, Madoka had enough self-control to maintain her grip on it even though Homura’s voice startled her.

“O-oh, Homura-chan,” she mumbled absently, staring down the aisle where Kiyoshi had disappeared. She blinked and shook her head before turning to Homura. As a professional bodyguard, Homura was internally kicking herself for letting Madoka wander off on her own. “Kiyoshi was here,” the pinkette confessed, a guilty shadow on her normally bright face. _Oh for crying out loud: you completely neglected to gather more information from the albino, incompetent fool_ , Madoka berated herself. She placed the bottle of wine in the cart and folded her hands together, shame coloring her cheeks pink for failing to keep calm and – to a lesser degree – for putting herself into a potentially dangerous situation. Well, in her defense, Kiyoshi had never really threatened her or anything of the sort, but that was a lame excuse and she knew it.

Homura’s keen eyes honed in on Madoka’s distress. “Did he say anything? How was he dressed? Which way did he go?” She immediately pulled out her small memo book and pencil. She knew, however, that where the albino went did not matter because she could not leave her obviously distressed client alone, nor could she put Madoka in a precarious position by bringing her along. It was at times like this that Homura regretted her decision to work solo instead of with a partner. _That does not matter; with and without a partner, I always succeed_. Let us not mention the hundreds of times she failed to save Madoka (not that Homura actually remembered).

Madoka remained silent for a few seconds, shoulders slumped, collecting her thoughts. “I-I … I think he was wearing a white suit, yes. I had settled on w-which wine to buy, and when I turned around he was there—” Madoka pointed to the end of the aisle—“I’m n-not sure how l-long he was there before I noticed him. When I turned around and saw him, he smirked at me and t-told me that I would make a … a wonderful addition to his c-company …” She hesitated then, unsure if she should admit to Homura how torn she had felt. _No, she’ll only think that I’m even more weak and stupid_.

Homura sensed Madoka’s hesitation, glancing sharply at her. “Then?” She took a couple steps closer to the timid pinkette, unconsciously invading her personal space.

“Well, I … I asked him how I could b-be useful to him, b-but all he said was that I had a v-vast potential.” Madoka’s face was red, unable to look at Homura. _It’s not my fault … I just want to be strong and amazing like my friends … like **you**_.

Nodding, unsurprised at the confession, Homura put away her notebook and endeavored to comfort the pinkette. “Kaname-san, are you alright?” Homura asked, her usually monotonic murmur replaced with concern – she suddenly had a vision of herself, much younger, wilting at the thought of being pathetic and worthless. _That was years ago, damn it_. Madoka squeaked, realizing how close her bodyguard was. She laughed nervously.

“I th-think so. He surprised me, that’s all,” she hastened to cover up for her nervousness.

“Well then, I insist that we depart for your home immediately, Kaname-san,” Homura replied. She walked back to the cart and looked at Madoka, knowing that the pinkette would dismiss any words of encouragement because she felt she did not deserve them. _Mein Gott, why do I care so much about this woman’s self-esteem?_ The pinkette nodded and headed to the check-outs. Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood – _A smile suits her much more than a frown_ – Homura murmured, “I was not aware that you are a drinker, Kaname-san.” 

Confused, Madoka stopped and glanced quizzically at Homura, who gestured to the bottle of wine in the cart. “Oh! No, I don’t really drink alcohol: that’s for when Mami-san and Hitomi-chan visit. Sayaka-chan is always trying to get me drunk and ‘have fun’ but I only drink alcohol with my mother. It’s sort of a … tradition I have with her,” Madoka laughed. Homura was pleased to note that Madoka’s countenance had brightened up considerably.

* * *

A half hour later, Madoka and Homura were in the kitchen putting away the groceries. Madoka had largely forgotten her encounter with Kyubey, preferring to occupy her mind with the way her heart had sped up when Homura had stood so close to her. A blush graced her cheeks as she put away the strawberry jam. 

Homura, for her part, stood by the doorway and kept a constant watch on her client. She was careful not to stare at the pinkette, however. “Homura-chan, would you like something for lunch?” Madoka suddenly asked her. An eyebrow cocked, Homura nodded.

 _“Homura-chan, let’s have lunch together!” A beaming, pink-haired girl stood in front of Homura’s desk, a bento box clutched in her hands. Homura smiled shyly, pushing up her red glasses as she replied, “Th-thank you, Kaname-san.”_ Kaname-san is so amazing, it’s a miracle that she wants to hang out with someone like me _, she marveled. “Mami-san has to make up a test she missed—” here, Madoka winked conspiratorially at Homura—“so we’ll have to make do by ourselves~” Even though Tomoe Mami was the cool, veteran upperclassman, Homura focused much more on Madoka. The pinkette’s bubbly cheer saved her from death-by-self-destruction and utterly changed Homura._ Why did you have to die, Kaname-san? _The world was grey and incomplete without her_.

Frowning in confusion, Homura barely registered the adult Madoka addressing her.

“Um … will a ham sandwich be ok?” Madoka knew that Homura had a preference for sandwiches, since anything that required a bowl or a plate and utensils was simply too cumbersome to be eaten standing up. The first time Homura had refused to sit and eat with Madoka, she had been confused, but Homura had then explained that she simply found it more convenient.

“Certainly, Kaname-san. Thank you.” Every word served a purpose: there was no such thing as a superfluous word when it came to Homura. _You are evidently alive_ , the bodyguard pondered, _and this is the first time I have ever met you. Wherefore, then, do my thoughts indicate otherwise?_ Disoriented by the apparent contradiction between her thoughts and reality, Homura allowed herself to dwell further on the matter. 

_“Certainly, Kaname-san. Thank you,” a colder Homura spoke this time. She accepted the proffered math notebook from the nervous pinkette –_ Even though I know the material already _. Tossing her hair carelessly, Homura left Madoka, though her hear raged and wailed at the thought of leaving her sweet Madoka for any length of time: she had died a total of twelve times now._ They say time heals all wounds – bah! A bitter lie, _Homura thought to herself. The repeated death of one Kaname Madoka did nothing to accustom her to it. Once in her apartment, she gently placed the notebook on her desk before dissolving into a fit of tears, punching the wall in agony and frustration._ Why must you be so kind, Madoka? _It took all of her hard-earned self-control to refrain from dashing out of her apartment and gathering the jolly pinkette in her arms –_ You and I, side by side; is it fair to be victimized by a life we didn’t ask for? _The next day, just as Homura spotted Madoka to return the notebook to her, Oriko and Kirika extinguished the light in Madoka’s eyes_.

Once again humming merrily, Madoka set about preparing herself and Homura the sandwiches, though she idly wondered if her bodyguard ever got tired of sandwiches. _Huh …_

“Homura-chan?” she probed, interrupting Homura’s thoughts again (good thing, too). Her question, however, was lost when she saw how **alluring** her bodyguard looked at that moment: reclining beside the door, hands in the pockets of her slacks, black jacket splayed behind her, violet dress shirt stretching slightly, a placid expression on her face. _Unf, Homura-chan…_ Madoka did not realize that she was ogling at Homura open-mouthed until the latter cleared her throat. Blushing madly, Madoka snapped her mouth shut with a _click_. “Ah – um, oh! Yes, um, d-do you ever get t-tired of eating sandwiches?” she blurted, wanting to sink into the floor and never come up again. _This is so embarrassing!_ Needless to say, Madoka was extremely inexperienced when it came to “matters of the flesh.”

For her part, Homura welcomed the distraction, though she did not understand why Madoka was suddenly so flustered. The question itself was innocuous and perfectly reasonable, so the blush that stained the pinkette’s expression was confusing. _Oh, but how lovely you look when you blush, Kaname-san_. Homura blinked, surprised at the thought, though she really shouldn’t have been. After all, she had noticed Madoka’s attractiveness and thought about it before she had even met the woman! _If current circumstances were different, Madoka, you would find yourself pressed against the wall, panting with need under my ministrations_.

“I do, but it does not matter,” she carefully replied. Pleased that her voice did not waver, Homura continued, “I make sure to eat a variety of other foods when I am not on a mission.” _Bad Homura – you are not to think of your client like that!_

All Madoka could do was nod vigorously and duck her head down again, but the shaking of her hands gave her away. Mercifully, Homura decided not to comment on it, since she was struggling to keep her own thoughts in check. Silence reigned in the kitchen until Madoka calmed down enough to hand Homura a ham sandwich wrapped in a paper towel.

“Thank you, Kaname-san,” Homura graciously accepted it, beginning to feel the gnawing of hunger. Madoka smiled brightly at her. She wanted to insist that Homura sit down and eat with her, but she knew her bodyguard would refuse. Besides, Madoka didn’t know if she could handle being in such close quarters with her attractive bodyguard. _Whoa, calm down, Madoka. She is your bodyguard, remember? Anyway, she wouldn’t want to be with someone as pathetic as me. Huh, I wonder if she ever gets tired standing up so long? Ha, of course she does, Madoka. She may be a little odd, but she is only human … though Sayaka-chan insists that aliens exist. I really miss Sayaka-chan and Mami-san. Since they are away, I only have Hitomi-chan for company, and Homura-chan, but that’s different_. Madoka preferred to have her thoughts meander from subject to subject rather than let herself dwell on less-pleasant memories that refused to stay away for very long.

The rest of the evening was passed quietly – Madoka was perfectly content with grading papers at her desk in her study, with Homura keeping guard in the corridor outside. Unfortunately, this allowed Homura’s thoughts to take a darker turn once again. _Someone explain to me why I have vague recollections of a younger Madoka and why my thoughts insist that she died._ The logical explanation – though her pride rebelled – that came to mind was that she had certain suppressed memories that were beginning to resurface once more. As a bodyguard, Homura was trained in basic psychology - for hostage situations and dealing with trauma - but she never thought she would have to apply those principles to herself. _The question, then, is why. Why would I block away my own memories?_

 _This is all so ridiculous. I should not fear my **own** thoughts_ , Homura grumbled to herself. _Yet ... there is always a reason when suppressing memories. The snatches of impressions today are nothing - that much is evident. Should I open Pandora's box?_ Then, a thought occurred to her. _If I have memories of Kaname-san, then she must have memories of me, right? But Kaname-san died multiple times_. This last thought confused Homura, but vague images of a grey buckler, grey worlds, and frozen grey people silently supported it. The idea of Madoka dying, even just once, was heart-wrenchingly painful to Homura. Perhaps it was not so great of a leap to assume that she would give her all - **even turn back time, were it possible** \- to save Kaname Madoka.

> _If that is so, then I will **not** lose you again, Madoka_. The thought came from seemingly nowhere, still lacking the weight of the memories of hundreds of previous timelines, but its import transcended everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mein Gott" means "my God" in German; I decided to use that instead of "kami" in order to vaguely allude to Homura's German background -- it'll be more clear in later chapters.


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff gets serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Rebellion, the third Madoka Magica movie. Kami, I love Homura and Madoka. Anyway, I hope nothing's too... out there, so to speak.
> 
> Also, I'm messing around with page/scene breaks.

### Revelations

Madoka’s safety was paramount.

That was why Homura found herself outside of Kyoko’s apartment at one o’ clock in the morning. _Of all the days Madoka decided to stay up late, it had to be today_ , the bodyguard grumbled. Homura deemed only the hours that the pinkette was asleep safe enough to leave her alone, though even that was.

_I know not what to make of the vague impressions that have begun to haunt me, but Kaname-san absolutely must not go about without someone to protect her. She will not pay the price for my own weakness._

She glowered at the door in front of her as if it could answer her half-formed questions but refused.

 _Kaname-san, I do not understand why your life is of such importance to me. Tell me: what binds our fates together? When I think of you, a warmth blossoms in my heart while an increasingly desperate fear festers in my mind—it is maddening._ She did not yet know how right she was. The answer, evidently, lay in those memories she now realized were locked away in the darkest recesses of her mind. In metaphorical terms, there was a cage that housed destructive fiends, a now-weakened cage.

 _I was fine before—before what? I was fine before I met Kaname Madoka_.

The doorbell rung once–twice–thrice before a sleepy-but-annoyed Kyoko answered. “What the hell, Homura? This better be good!” she growled, a hand carelessly gesturing to enter. Homura did not respond, entering silently, but her blank eyes took in the unexpected orderly appearance of Kyoko’s normally messy living room. Seeing the direction of her friend’s gaze, Kyoko grunted. “Tomoe Mami came by t’day. Don’t ask.” Raising an eyebrow at the news and ignoring the calculating look the red-head sent her, Homura sat down on an armchair facing the hallway while Kyoko disappeared through another door to the kitchen. She could be heard rummaging around her cupboards for something to munch on. _Always with food_. Idly, Homura wondered just what had pushed her friend to using food as a coping strategy— _I know so little about her._ Unease stirred in her mind again. _Where did we first meet? It was years ago, when…when what?_ Troubled by her inability to recall, Homura frowned slightly at the photo of Kyoko and Mami on one of the many coffee tables in the living room, as if she could find the answers there if she looked long enough. The photo, like the apartment door, offered nothing.

“Alright, so you gonna tell me why you’re here?” Kyoko returned, her nimble hands ripping open a new packet of Pocky and glaring at her friend. She was in a particularly bad mood, the hour of the visit notwithstanding. _Trouble’s afoot_ —why else would her habit-oriented partner show up at such an unholy hour?

“I need you to partner with me.” Short and to the point.

“Keh! You realize I’m on vacation, right? I kinda like not having to play follow-the-leader every damn day and put my life at risk for someone else, y’know?”

“I will let you full reign of my apartment once the assignment is over; I have already talked your manager into giving you a pay raise.” Homura knew that food was (usually) an express ticket into Kyoko’s good graces, and since a pay raise would enable the redhead to buy even more food, she doubted her grumpy friend would resist. Sure enough, Kyoko mulled things over, finished her packet of Pocky, and acquiesced.

“Fine, when d’ya want me to show up?”

“4PM, no earlier, no later. Here is the address; dress properly, and be respectful,” Homura ordered, handing Kyoko a slip of paper with an address on it. She rose silently and made her way to the apartment entrance. “Good night. Thank you, Kyoko-san” she said, pausing briefly at the door before leaving. Inside, Kyoko sighed. _Then again, maybe this’ll be enough of a distraction to keep thoughts of Mami—and the girl herself—away. Whatever, I’m going to bed_.

Unfortunately for Sakura Kyoko, Kaname Madoka happened to be very good friends with Tomoe Mami… and she would not be returning to bed as she had thought.

The doorbell rang again. Snarling, now positively aggravated at being roused in the middle of the night, Kyoko wrenched the door open. “WHAT?” Immediately, however, a gun was in her hand, pointed warningly at the stranger standing outside.

“My, my. Do you often greet visitors in this manner?” The clearly mocking words were spoken in a boyish voice, though Kyoko doubted he was a child, despite his short stature and youthful appearance. She did not deign to reply. The albino clicked his tongue and impatiently said, “Well, don’t leave me standing out here—it’s freezing.”

Kyoko scowled even further. “I don’t take orders from runts—especially not ones who are freaky-looking strangers showing up at unholy hours of the mornin’ in an expensive-lookin’ suit.”

“Oh, _fine_. I am Kiyoshi Walton—hence the vague English appearance,” Kiyoshi replied carelessly (as if he would no longer be a stranger by merely stating his name), shoving his hands in his pockets for warmth. _This runt’s weak on top of creepy_. His red eyes, though, glittered mischievously.

“What d’ya want?” was Kyoko’s terse response.

Kiyoshi gave a petulant sigh, then said, “Fine. Anyway, I have a proposition for you, Sakura Kyoko.” The red-head stiffened, snapping the safety off of her handgun. _He knows my name, which can be easily explained, but under the circumstances…_ “Hey, don’t be so hasty!” Kiyoshi smirked, pulling out a comb and a pocket mirror to fix up his wavy white hair.

 _Who the fuck is this kid?!_ Kyoko, unlike **someone** she knew, had no qualms shooting someone who was merely suspicious, but curiosity momentarily stayed her hand. “And what is this proposition, Walton- **san**?” She added the suffix mockingly, but his smirk only grew more pronounced. _He’s not taking me seriously!_

“Would you—” he grinned now, a vicious grin that did nothing to reassure Kyoko—“consider becoming a Puella Magi once more?” He paused, letting his words sink in. Then he was on the floor, gasping for breath.

“Give me one fucking reason to not shoot you,” Kyoko snarled, her knee on his stomach and handgun pressed to his forehead. Kiyoshi, however, refused to answer, despite his wheezing. “By God, you little—”

“ _God_ , Sakura-san?” Kiyoshi sneered suddenly. “Such… an entity does not exist, and I… would have thought that… the **unfortunate** destruction… of your family had cured you of that… nonsense,” he taunted between breaths.

Disgusted, Kyoko kicked the albino as she stood up. “If I see ya ‘round me again, I’ll call the cops on ya,” she threatened before returning to the safety of her apartment. _I’ll have to talk to Homura, and Mami, as soon as possible. Nothing Puella Magi-related can be good_.

Outside, Kiyoshi inhaled sharply through his nose, red eyes never blinking. He addressed the door, “Oh, but it’s not a choice, Sakura-san. This was merely… a formality. You have no real choice.”

* * *

When she returned, Homura was surprised to see Madoka sitting in the dark and otherwise empty personal kitchen. The pinkette clutched a cup of tea in both her hands, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders; the darkness obscured her expression. _It looks like something from a nightmare—faceless ballerinas_.

Madoka sighed and got up ( _you wouldn’t have problems sleeping if you’d just gone all the way instead of this stupid middle path_ ). A movement caught her eye, and she realized Homura was standing silently in the doorway. “Oh! Homura-chan, I thought you were sleeping in your quarters—for once,” she added humorously, pulling out another glass from a cupboard. Homura shook her head, a hand absentmindedly flicking on the lights. Madoka noticed that her bodyguard looked haggard: there were dark bags under her eyes and a certain weariness was in the air around her.

“Homura-chan? Are you not getting enough sleep?” she asked, concerned for her friend. She poured a cup of tea, offering it to Homura, who accepted it with a gracious nod.

 _Why were you so cruel as to ask the impossible of me?_ Startled, Homura looked away from Madoka, frowning slightly at her tea instead as she answered.

“No, Kaname-san. However, I have made arrangements for a partner to join me, if it is acceptable to you.” She waited patiently for Madoka’s response, confident that she would not object. _How could you possibly deny me anything, after all you have done to me?_ Her frown grew more pronounced. _Where **are** these thoughts coming from! _ A gulp of tea had her inhaling sharply, startled by the heat.

Madoka hummed softly, watching her bodyguard still reclined against the doorway. _Madoka, c’mon, just let me take care of things—I am certainly not as cowardly as you are_. The voice nagged at her, but the pinkette sharply bit the inside of her tongue to distract herself from it. She shook her head at Homura’s faint gasp, realizing suddenly that she had not answered yet. “Oh, I don’t mind… when will your partner be here?”

“At four, if she deigns to arrive on time. Kaname-san, my partner is boisterous and has a penchant for food, but I assure you she is perfect for the task,” Homura quickly replied, putting her own bizarre thoughts behind her. Madoka nodded, absently nursing her sore tongue.

Silence made itself at home between the two.

 _I’m not cowardly_ , Madoka defended herself. _I’m just… not as strong as Mami-san and Sayaka-chan, but I can defend myself. I can use a bow, and not just game bows, but also proper weaponry like crossbows_. It did not convince her, but she remembered—“Oh, Homura-chan, archery season will begin next week for spring sports, and since I’m an assistant coach, I’ll be staying after school Tuesdays through Thursdays for the rest of the spring semester.” Homura, with her blank eyes, observed Madoka perking up considerably at the thought of archery practice.

She tilted her head slightly, unconsciously, and observed the bubbly pinkette now smiling into her cup of tea. _I missed you so, so much, Madoka_. “Kaname-san, I believe you have school tomorrow,” Homura gently reminded Madoka. Blushing, the pinkette nodded and left her empty cup of tea in the sink. Homura did the same, then followed behind her client as she went upstairs, through several hallways to her bedroom.

Pausing at the door, Madoka looked guiltily at her bodyguard. “Are you sure you want to sleep on the floor again, Homura-chan?” _I’ve asked so much of you, haven’t I, Homura-chan?_ Except, she hadn’t… had she?

“Do not worry, Kaname-san; my job is to protect you at all times. I have a pillow and a blanket—that is all I need,” the ex-time-traveler replied, her purple eyes contemplating Madoka. _Why must you be so kind, Kaname-san?_ It was something she wondered often; this time, however, that thought instigated a jumble of feelings from an earlier time, another place, another life. Madoka nodded and mumbled a soft good night, leaving the door open a crack behind her. _Whatever it is between us, Homura-chan, I don’t want to add to it_. Maybe she _was_ a coward and leaving a door open was her paltry recompense for debts long ignored.

／人◕‿‿◕人＼

Sleep did come easily to Homura.

Memories of her childhood—for she was certain that she was not dreaming—crept out of their cage, teasing her, mocking her efforts to forget the past. Vaguely, she recalled a strange alien cat with vivid red eyes and omnipresent smirk, a purple egg (?), strange apparitions (here, the words _familiar_ and _witch_ came to mind, but she wasn’t sure), grey worlds devoid of vitality, a girl sipping tea after a battle, and a squealing pink-haired girl oddly reminiscent of Kaname-san. Unease pervaded everything, unease and a burning hatred for… for _something_. Homura pressed her hands onto her eyes, willing the images to go away. She did not remember, she did not know who they were, and a part of her warned her to stay away, that these images would only bring suffering. _I locked these memories away for a reason_ , Homura realized. _Why would I do that?_  A kind of masochistic curiosity wanted to delve deeper, to rediscover this part of her life that she had so earnestly suppressed— _surely I am strong enough to deal with my own memories_. For Homura, her life began when she was taken in by Security Firm at the age of thirteen; everything before that year was blurry and, before this past week, she had dismissed those lost years as insignificant. Now, however, she was curious to know just what she had run away from. Her own pride rebelled at the thought that she was running away from her past, but her self-preservation whispered that some things were better left alone. Still, there was curiosity. _It’s like a carnival—bizarre creatures, magic, sacrificial young girls_. The last sent a jolt of anger through her, _but why? Why me, how am **I** involved in these ludicrous… things? Are they even memories, or have I gone insane?_

As images flickered through her mind like an old film (blank red eyes mocked her, mocked her as the golden-haired girl lay dying—why was she dying?), Homura lay awake on the floor in front of Madoka’s bedroom for several more hours (because they definitely were _not_ memories, she decided).

  _They were running._

_(Who are “they”?)_

_Your friends._

_Everything was grey (some sort of black-and-white movie)._

_Ballerinas danced, ballerinas with blank faces and happy smiles (from a circus, no doubt)._

_Gears and lace and rain and the world was grey (a dream, surely—perhaps of warped memories from childhood)._

_Hand grenades littered her room (she had always wondered why it was that she knew how to make bombs)._

_She was crying (who_ was _this girl?)._

_Red eyes followed her everywhere (this was the stuff of nightmares)._

_The red ribbons holding her in place were gone, their master dead (ridiculous; perhaps a fever was muddling everything)._

_Dressed in a purple and black costume, ready for battle (must have been a long-forgotten Halloween party)._

_“G-go back and stop stupid me from m-making a contract—” a pained gasp—“please, Homura-chan.” (Roleplay. She had briefly been into roleplay as a teenager.)_

Yet for all her denial and doubt, she could not write off her tears, anger, and anguish as nothing.

／人◕‿‿◕人＼

 _At least I can look forward to Kyoko arriving later today_ , Homura blearily thought. She staggered to her feet and hastily went through her own morning routine—berating herself for sleeping in, even though it had only been a few minutes—before joining Madoka in the chef’s kitchen, where the cook had prepared a lavish breakfast for his mistress. The pinkette promptly asked Homura to join her upon seeing her bodyguard at the door.

Deciding that breaking protocol wouldn’t hurt this one time, Homura sank into a chair on Madoka’s left and grabbed several slices of French toast. “Homura-chan?” Madoka caught Homura’s attention. Her purple eyes focused on the pinkette even as her hand reached for a bowl of steamed rice.

Smiling at Homura’s evident appetite, Madoka served her a plate of nori [dried seaweed] and broiled salmon. “Umm, Homura-chan, I was thinking of inviting Mami-san for dinner tonight, since she got back from her assignment yesterday. Do you know her?” _A stupid question, of_ course _you know Mami-san; you saved her from the dessert witch, you fought against Walpurgis Nacht together, you saved her from despair…_. Her stomach twisted as Homura froze over her meal and an answer was not forthcoming _—didn’t you?_ She continued uneasily, suddenly desperate, “I know both of you work for the same company, and she’s also in Division A… Homura-chan…?” she trailed off. _What’s wrong, Homura-chan should remember, not look_ stricken _!_ ( _But you didn’t remember either, did you, Madoka?_ )

“Yes. I knew Tomoe Mami,” was all the answer her bodyguard gave. Madoka frowned at the use of the past tense; her heart began to beat a little faster. She knew better than to pry into others’ lives, but something was off and she couldn’t brush off her abrupt panic. Pink eyes scrutinized the silent bodyguard beside her as an inner voice whispered, _If nothing else, be on your guard; you ignored things for too long and let Homura back into your life—now you have to deal with the consequences of forgetting_. Homura did not notice Madoka’s change in demeanor, lost in her own world.

 _Do I_ know _Mami?_

Mental images of a girl with yellow hair in ringlets, wearing a sort of fancy uniform had sprung up, unbidden, at the mention of Mami.

 _Yellow ribbons transformed into muskets, tears coursed down her horrified face as she sobbed inconsolably, and the smiling senpai nonchalantly drank tea as if she had not just battled a witch_.

Homura shook her head— _this is absurd. None of that ever existed, not the witches, the magic, the ridiculous clothing, nothing. It must be the lack of sleep that conjures up such ridiculous images, or maybe it’s just warped memories of a Halloween party or some ridiculous Western culture affair that Mami and I attended_. Still, she pushed away her plate; her appetite failed her.

Breakfast forgotten, her hands curled into fists, gripping her chopsticks fiercely. What had happened? She had been fine, if slightly troubled by weird thoughts, before… before her visit with Kyoko. Specifically, before Kyoko’s offhand mention of Mami. The whole mess left her feeling as if she was insane; Homura wished it would leave her in peace. _I should not have agreed to this assignment. From the very beginning, something was off_. First, her unexpected attraction to her client. Then, the flickers from weird dreams (for they certainly were not _memories_ )—she could not look at anymore Madoka without seeing a younger girl who resembled the older woman too much. Now, clearer-but-still-jumbled snatches of things best left alone.

 _None of it is real_.

“Homura-chan, are you feeling alright?” Madoka shrewdly interrupted Homura’s train of thought (the little voice in the back of her mind insisted that Madoka fix things). Her hand tentatively reached out to her bodyguard, but she refrained from actually touching her arm.

“Kaname-san, if we do not leave now you might be late for class.” Startled, Madoka leapt to her feet with a cry and dashed to her study to get her rucksack (she ignored the disgruntled grumbling of her mind). Homura allowed herself a slight smile—just a faint upturn of her lips—at Madoka’s antics before thanking the cook for the breakfast. She went out, giving the car and Kyo a quick inspection and then waited for Madoka to come bursting out the front door; perish the thought that Homura would ever let her duties slide.

Once in the car, however, Madoka could no longer ignore the nagging mental voice, so she turned to her black-haired companion once more with hesitation painted on her features. “Kaname-san, do not worry over me. I am fine,” Homura quickly intercepted, turning to the car window to evade eye contact. The pinkette nodded slowly, biting her lower lip unconsciously.

Minutes later, they arrived in front of Mitakihara Middle School. The students were clustered outside her classroom, wondering where their teacher was. Out of breath, Madoka showed up just moments before the bell rang, Homura easily keeping up. The pink-haired teacher hastily unlocked the classroom and ushered her students in, ignoring their curiosity.

“Right, ah—oh! Class, please turn in your…” Homura took her position by the door and tuned out the noises of the classroom. She had been mesmerized the first time she had watched Madoka teach, but right now she had a more pressing problem that involved sorting through even more confusing… images (images that looked suspiciously like memories, but of course they weren’t…).

 _The only sound in the classroom was the explanation of English grammar—something about passive versus active—that Saotome-sensei passionately and liberally infused with anti-misogynistic comments. Homura already knew this month’s lessons by heart, so she didn’t bother paying attention; instead, she focused on the bright girl in pigtails, though she couldn’t easily see her from her seat._ Such a sweet girl _, she thought_. Shy yet exuberant… courageous yet cowardly _. On rare days, when nothing went according to plan, Homura found it easy to get angry with Madoka, even_ resent _her_.

Homura scowled.

Being at the school she had once attended was nostalgic in and of itself (sometimes there was old unease, which she stubbornly ignored), but now those vague memories of teachers and classes were interspersed with poignant memories of a girl in pink pigtails (but she had only recently met Madoka).

 _Maybe I should take a break from working as Kyoko did. Obviously something about Kaname-san is twisting, warping my thoughts and memories_.

If she let herself actively think about it, Homura suspected she would find the holes filled in. _Filled in by what, though? Filled in by truth hopelessly perverted and mangled into something ludicrous?_

 _No_. She snorted softly to herself, eyes absently roving over the murmuring students as they completed a project (she carefully avoided looking at Madoka). Homura’s fingers, hidden by the crook of her crossed arms, dug into her palms.

 _If only my mind would settle down, if only I could return to the normalcy of before_.

* * *

By the time lunch came around, Homura was more than ready for a break and a distraction from the increasingly distressful turn of her thoughts (memories). Unfortunately for her, Madoka was busy with make-up tests for students who had missed class the week before, so she had to endure her thoughts a while longer.

She had caved in. Four hours with nothing but her mind and the classroom to focus on had let her skepticism crumble just enough to consciously examine the brief glimpses of an impossible world ( _only out of curiosity, out of boredom_ , she rationalized).

Given free reign, the disjointed flashes formed a story. Sometimes it lacked detail, sometimes it had too much of it.

A couple of emotions insistently vied for acknowledgement. One had bloomed early on; the other had festered later on.

“Homura-chan, would you accompany me on a walk to the roof top?” Madoka appeared in front of her, smiling that sweet smile that time could not dull. The smile that had lately ensnared Homura’s heart (the smile that she had _not_ once suffered for).

“Kaname-san, it is my duty to follow you everywhere you go,” she gently reminded the art teacher (no matter what her out of control feelings said, it was not Madoka’s fault that she was a jumbled mess). Madoka blushed but her smile turned into a delighted grin. She headed out with her lunchbox—decorated with kittens, Homura noticed—her bodyguard just a step behind her, scanning the halls for any danger to her client ( _ignore the silly unease; remember, you do not believe the story_ ).

They walked in silence to roof. When her client was comfortably seated, eating and gazing up at the sky (studiously ignoring the adamant warning voice), Homura gathered up her courage to ask a question.

“Doesn’t the sky look so pretty, Homura-chan? All those wispy clouds just drifting… I wonder where they go. It would be so much fun to be a cloud! They swirl around sometimes and make such exquisite shapes against the blue sky. Mama said that when it rains, it’s because the kami are crying for us, and storms are when they are angry at our foolishness,” Madoka rambled, her eyes leaving the sky to smile at her bodyguard. _Homura-chan’s been very odd today_. Her smile faltered but she quickly turned away.

“I—yes, Kaname-san. That makes sense,” Homura murmured, letting the sweet serenity of Madoka quell the resentment that insisted that the pinkette had wronged her. “Kaname-san, may I ask a question?” she hastily asked ( _this is merely a formality, to prove once and for all that none of this is true_ ).

“Of course, Homura-chan,” Madoka replied, slightly surprised at the hesitance she could see in her normally calm and controlled bodyguard. _Something is bothering her, Madoka. Watch your step_.

Homura sat beside Madoka, careful to keep distance between them. _I do not want to intimidate her by standing over her_. “Do you—do you remember me, Kaname-san?” she blurted, unable to calm her frantic heart.

Madoka calmly set down her chopsticks and packed her bento slowly. Homura waited, fingers digging into her palms again.

Lunch put aside, Madoka stood and pensively walked to the fence. _I remember when Sayaka-chan and I would come up here to talk about wishes_. She could feel her heart beat faster, could feel the rushing blood pound in her ears.

Without turning, Madoka addressed her bodyguard: “Remember you, Homura-chan?” Her hands gripped the chain-link fence, just as she had done eleven years ago. She was definitely taller than her eighth grade self had been, though. _So much changed in just two months; so, so much_.

 _Maybe it’s time we faced our mistakes_.

“At first, you were just that cool transfer student that seemed lonely. Your expression was always so bleak, and I wondered if perhaps you’d spent too long in hospitals and in pain—” she smiled painfully, though Homura couldn’t see—“Then _I_ was the one stuck in a hospital; you faded away in my mind for a while.” She paused. _If only the fence wasn’t in place_.

 _Weakling! Be strong, Madoka, for once in your life_.

Homura watched Madoka hunch her shoulders, speaking to the sky and not to her. _Nothing out place, it was a normal transfer_. The mention of the accident, however, made sweat gather in her sore palms. ( _Remember the accident? That was why she did not make a contract. Ultimately, it saved her life_.)

Madoka continued, “The doctors said my legs were paralyzed, like Kamijou-san’s arm was; it was normal for car accident victims to have paralysis. I was half-blind in one eye, too, but they were confident that a few years would let me get my sight back completely.” She turned back to look at Homura. A smile tugged at her lips, but her heart was not in it. _Then Sayaka traded her soul for your comfort, all because you had broken down and no longer smiled. You hadn’t even lost something like Kamijou had_.

Pink eyes locked with purple briefly; Homura turned away. Her palms weren’t bleeding yet, but the pressure had strained her knuckles so she flattened her hands over her pant legs. _She loves me not_.

“One morning I woke up completely healed. It was magical—literally,” Madoka smiled again, but sadly. “I felt so grateful that Sayaka-chan had saved me… it was only later that I looked away from myself long enough to realize that she’d condemned Kamijou-san to a life without his greatest love.” She turned back to face the edge of the building.

 _Nooo, it cannot be true_. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, but Homura refused to cry. Maybe—maybe they were both insane.

“Don’t you know the rest, Homura-chan? We met properly during one of Sayaka-chan’s rounds while Mami-san had gone to fetch Kyoko-san—” the mention of two other names mocked the ex-time-traveler’s efforts to deny everything—“Walpurgis Nacht passed, and then… then Security Firm changed things and you drifted away.”

 _Is that accusation I hear in her voice?_ Outrage and shame warred in her heart. “Kyoko-san also drifted away. Well, life moved on and we grew up.”

Silence fell.

The bell rang.

Madoka turned around, startled out of her reverie, and assessed her once friend ( _another friend you’ve managed to ensnare with your carelessness, Madoka. If you had just **listened** to me…!_ ).

Homura stood up gracefully, motioning to Madoka to follow her. “Our jobs call.”

Before she opened the door to the stairs, Homura paused briefly and said,

> “For the record, Kaname-san, you only have a fraction of the story.”


End file.
